


Blind Justice

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Gen, Mild Language, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2726921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're on my list, pal."</p>
<p>DuPree has wanted to kill Ardsley Wooster ever since the first time she failed.  She has tried a second time since then, and this is her third - and last - attempt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Justice

**Author's Note:**

> There is something in this story which may come as a major shock. If it doesn't... then thank you so much for reading all my earlier stories with such great care and attention; I would make you a nice cup of tea and bring you a plate of cakes if I could. I have actually been building up to this story for a very long time, not to mention foreshadowing the heck out of it in some places.
> 
> It will be all right in the end. I promise.

I climbed into my flyer to go up to Castle Wulfenbach, as I had done so many times over the years since I became Ambassador. It was, of course, greatly changed from its original form; I had had a large number of additions and improvements made to it, some of which Gil had done for me himself by way of gifts. I settled into my seat, turned on the fog navigation system...

There was a terrifying boom, and I was thrown against the controls. Some of the levers had hit me in the stomach, which was painful for the moment, but I did not seem to be badly hurt. I could smell acrid smoke from somewhere, though, and there was not much space in here. I knew I could suffocate if I did not act quickly. I raised my leg as far as I could and kicked out the front window, then dragged myself out through it onto the flyer's bonnet and slid down to the ground. I was only just in time, for the flyer erupted behind me into a fireball, singeing my hair and clothes. I ran until I hit the railings; for the flyer is kept on the roof of the Embassy, and there is therefore only so much room to escape.

There was a commotion below. “I'm all right,” I called. “Someone get a message to the Baron, please. Ask him to send a flyer down for me.”

Lucilla came running up to the roof. “Ardsley!” she called, in the nearest I have ever heard to panic from her.

“I'm all right, darling. I'm over here,” I shouted. “I got out.”

She hurried over to me. “Oh, darling. For one horrible moment there...”

“Yes, I know. I know.” I drew her close to me. “At least it didn't happen in the air. I'm pretty sure that was the saboteur's intention. Although if it had, I do have a parachute.”

She did not waste time asking how I was so sure it was sabotage and not some kind of mechanical failure. I have had people try to assassinate me before, and, in any case, mechanical failures do not usually cause dramatic explosions. Instead, she brought me back inside and made me a cup of tea while I waited for Gil to send a flyer down.

“When the wreckage has cooled down,” she said, “I'm going up on the roof with NIMROD and we'll see what we can find between us. Whoever did this, I want them caught.”

“Good idea,” I said. “It's not going to set anything else alight, is it?”

“No, it should burn itself out up there. And... oh, you're bleeding.”

“Where?” I asked. With the adrenalin surge, after the initial blow to the stomach I had not noticed I was hurt.

“Your left hand. Not very much. You must have cut yourself on the glass as you escaped. I'll get something to bind it with.”

“Yes,” I said. “Now you mention it, it is stinging.”

It was actually quite a deep cut, but it had not bled much for the simple reason that there was still a piece of glass in it; no wonder it stung. Lucilla removed it expertly, cleaned the wound, bound some strips of linen over it, padded it with cotton wool, then finished off with more linen. “There,” she said. “I think you should be all right with that. It's deep, but it's not long enough to need stitches, so I don't think you need see a doctor. Thank heaven that's all the injury you've taken.”

“I did get hit in the stomach, but I think I'm just bruised,” I replied.

Gil's pilot arrived shortly after that; evidently the message had got through very fast. “Sorry to hear about what happened, my lord,” he said.

“Well, I'm alive and almost unharmed,” I replied. “It could have been a great deal worse.”

He brought me safely up to Castle Wulfenbach, where Gil was waiting for me in a state of alternating anxiety and utter fury. “Ardsley!” he said. “Thank God you're all right. The idiot who brought me the news started by telling me your flyer had been blown up. I thought you were dead until they told me the rest of the story.”

“I got a piece of glass in my left hand, which Lucilla has removed for me, and that's all,” I assured him. “I was exceedingly fortunate.”

“I've got a flyer I can lend you until you can get a new one,” he offered. “In the meantime, I've got people out looking for the saboteur, as I expect you have.”

“I have; and I also have NIMROD,” I replied. “Lucilla's taking him up on the roof to hunt for clues. He doesn't miss much.”

Gil nodded, satisfied. “Yes. He's a good clank. I'm glad you've got him.”

“He is invaluable,” I replied. “I must admit, I had no idea just how useful he would be.” I paused. “It's very kind of you to offer to lend me a flyer, Gil, but... would you mind very much if I also asked you to lend me a pilot? I'm used to mine, and, to be honest, I am still quite shaken.”

“Of course! No problem. Anyone would be. Have you had a drink?”

“I've had a cup of tea,” I replied.

“I would recommend something a little stronger.”

“I wouldn't say no,” I admitted.

He brought me through to his study. “What do you fancy?”

“Possibly not spirits at this time of day,” I mused. “What about a glass of port? Still an odd time for it, but for some reason I like the idea better than sherry.”

“Port it is. I'll join you,” he said, and proceeded to pour two glasses. “Now. When we catch that saboteur, and I am determined that will be 'when' rather than 'if', we may have a legal problem, and it would be best to sort that out now rather than possibly wrangling about it later. It is just possible that, despite all my efforts to keep spies out of this place, the sabotage was done here on Castle Wulfenbach by someone who either has a grudge against your country or is still trying to wreck our alliance. If so, then it falls under my jurisdiction. But if the sabotage was actually committed on the roof of the British Embassy, it falls under yours, and the saboteur will have to be sent to London for trial. I suppose you don't have any idea about where the sabotage took place, do you?”

“I don't believe it was done on Castle Wulfenbach,” I replied. “If that had been the case, the flyer would almost certainly have exploded coming down. Of course, it does depend on what triggered it; but NIMROD may be able to tell us that. Besides, I can't see that anyone has any political reason to kill me these days. My death would no longer wreck the alliance between our two countries, and I already have someone in position to take over from me when I retire, which I very much think I shall do early. My health is not as good as it might be, if you recall.”

“I know you have diabetes,” said Gil, “but since you were diagnosed and put on a diet low in sugar, you've seemed very much better.”

“Indeed; but it is starting to do some damage. If you want me to be honest, my doctor is already pushing me to retire now. I don't want to do that just yet, since I can still do my job. But I am preparing now for the day when I can no longer do that.”

“Well, I'm glad you've warned me,” said Gil, “because I don't mind saying I'll miss you. I mean, how long have we known each other now? Must be the best part of thirty years.”

“I'm sure we'll still be able to visit regularly,” I assured him. “I'm not just going to abandon all my friends over here.”

There was a tap on the door. “Come in!” called Gil.

“Baron Wulfenbach,” the minion announced, “the person who sabotaged the Ambassador's flyer has been caught.”

“Already? That was quick,” said Gil. “Excellent! Where are they?”

“If you would care to follow me, Herr Baron...”

Gil stood up with a clatter. “Come on, Ardsley. Let's see who tried to kill you.” To the minion, he said, “Do you know how they were caught?”

“They were seen from a boat on the river, shinning down a drainpipe at the back of the British Embassy,” replied the minion.

“Ah,” I said. “So the sabotage was definitely done on our roof, and therefore it is a matter for British jurisdiction. That is useful to know.” I had been sure of that in any case, but it was useful to have it proved beyond all reasonable doubt.

“Oh, so I can't have them tortured?” said Gil.

“Gil,” I said reproachfully. “You ought to know my feelings on torture by now.”

“Yes, well, it's not something I do lightly, but anyone who tries to blow up my best friend is not going to find me at my most merciful,” he replied grimly.

They had not put the prisoner in the dungeons, but in a bipartite holding cell; the prisoner was separated by a substantial metal grille from anyone entering. As we walked in, Gil let out a gasp.

“You!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, Gil. Me.”

It was Bangladesh DuPree.

“Ah,” I said. “That makes perfect sense. You failed to kill me twice, so you thought you'd have a third and final attempt. I wasn't aware that you had been released from prison, but I was sure you would come after me as soon as you were free.”

“Oh, you didn't know?” she snarled. “Aren't you supposed to be the man who knows everything? You're slipping, aren't you?”

I shrugged. “I imagined you would go for me in England, not here. It would have been a simple enough matter for you to find out where I live; I'm in Debrett's, after all. Here, you were at far more risk of being caught, as has just been illustrated.” I paused. “Or couldn't you wait?”

“You're in what?” she asked.

“Debrett's Peerage,” said Gil. “You're out of touch, DuPree. You're talking to an earl.”

“Oh, la di da,” she sneered. “Heh. You do know that means he outranks you now? How d'you feel about that, Gil?”

“I don't outrank him,” I said. “He uses the title Baron, but that's not his highest title. As I believe you are quite aware. Captain.”

“Still Captain, I take it,” said Gil. “I can't imagine anyone's ever promoted you.”

“For two pins I'd stick a knife in you too,” she said. “What happened to you, Gil? You used to be fun.”

“You ought to be really grateful you were on the roof of the British Embassy when you sabotaged that flyer,” Gil growled. “Otherwise, I'd be doing a lot more than sticking a knife in you, believe me. Remember all those nice torture machines you used to like? You'd be getting reacquainted with them again, I promise you. Up close and personal.”

“But, thankfully, you committed your crime on what is technically British soil,” I said. “Therefore, as soon as I can arrange it, you will be extradited to London, where you will stand trial. You will probably be hanged. I don't think it's a particularly pleasant death, but it is at least more merciful than what Gil has in mind at the moment.”

“I didn't even hurt you,” she complained. “Well, other than your hand, I see. Big fat stinking deal.”

“You tried to kill me,” I replied. “It was only by the merest chance that you didn't.”

“Yeah, how come...” She stopped. “Wait. You...”

“What the hell are you staring like that for?” Gil demanded.

“Wooster,” she said. “You're blind. Aren't you?”

“What?!” said Gil.

I sighed. “Yes. I am blind. I have, in fact, been blind for some time now.”

“But how the hell...” Gil spluttered. “You fly up here almost every day!”

“Yes,” I replied patiently. “That's how DuPree knew. She sabotaged the fog navigation system, thinking I'd blow myself up the first time I flew through heavy cloud. She didn't know I use it all the time because I can't see to fly.”

“But... you... but you walk around this ship without a stick or anything. You don't even bring NIMROD!”

“Gil, I know Castle Wulfenbach like the back of my hand, and I had plenty of warning that I was losing my sight,” I explained. “I get around by counting strides and using landmarks. You may have noticed that I've been in the habit of casually brushing my hand against the wall recently. I do that to help locate myself. When I'm around town, I do use NIMROD, but since I've been walking around with him habitually for years, nobody thinks anything of it.”

“Ardsley,” said Gil, “why, why in all the seven hells, did you not think to tell me? Don't you know I can make you a pair of mechanical eyes without even thinking about it, just the same way I made your mechanical legs for you?”

“Yes, of course I did,” I replied gently, “and that's exactly why I didn't tell you. I would never have said anything at all, if DuPree here hadn't given me away. I didn't want to have to tell you I don't want mechanical eyes.”

“But why not?” Gil sounded as though he was close to tears. “Ardsley, you... I mean, your sight... Dammit, man, I knew you weren't seeing so well, but I had no idea you'd lost it altogether!”

“Yes, I miss it. But I have the typewriting machine in the office, and I have the reading machine that Aristide built for me, and I have NIMROD, and I can assure you I can tell just as much from a person's voice these days as I ever could from their face. I've had to learn to do that for quite a while. Gil, mechanical legs are one thing, but eyes are quite another. It's my eyes that tell other people who I am. They're where all the expression is. They may be useless to me now, but they serve a valuable purpose for other people. I don't want them taken away.”

“You said that the diabetes was starting to cause damage,” he said, heavily. “Now I understand what you mean.”

“Oh, it's not just that. I have some other things that are starting to cause me trouble.” I turned to DuPree. “But don't think you were trying to kill a man who's already dying; I shall last a good while yet.”

“In the dark,” she said, maliciously. “I feel better for that, at least.”

I laughed. “I see better than you do, even now. You can't see outside your own rut. What have you actually done in your life, DuPree?”

“Won a lot of fights. Killed a lot of people the world's better off without. Had a lot of fun.”

“Wait,” said Gil, and I heard the edge of madness enter his voice. “You want human eyes. All right. I understand that. I could give you hers.”

“Gil!” I said. “After all this time, do you not understand me at all?”

“Well? You've already said you've got several more years to live yet, and she's going to be hanged. She doesn't need them.”

“They're not yours to give. At this moment, she is a prisoner awaiting trial under English law, and she has the full protection of that law. In my person, if necessary.”

“Ardsley, you're...” Gil ground to a halt in utter frustration. “You know very well I can't fight you. Especially not if you can't see to fight. But...”

“Why the hell are you defending me, Wooster?” asked DuPree. “I'll give you this. I never thought of you as a brave man, but you're showing some guts now.”

“Justice,” I said simply. “And I do wish you'd both stop talking as though the fact that I've lost my sight is a massive tragedy. Suppose you both stop imagining what it would be like for you, and listen to my point of view on the subject for a moment? In this case, for once, it's the one that's important.”

“Well, if you don't think it's a tragedy, what do you think it is?” asked Gil, floored.

“I think it's a blasted nuisance, if you want to know,” I replied. “Especially with the additional trouble I've had keeping it both from you and the authorities back home, who would recall me like a shot if they knew. As if I can't still do my job.”

“Well, I'm afraid they're going to find out now,” said Gil. “You'll be the chief witness at DuPree's trial. You can hardly get out of that. And since the only reason you're still alive to do that is the fact that you fired up your fog navigation system before taking off on a bright clear sunny morning...”

“What sort of person talks about losing their sight as a nuisance?” asked DuPree. She sounded stunned.

“I think I know,” replied Gil slowly. “Someone who's got their own light. I can see why he wants to keep his eyes. The fire hasn't gone out of them, has it?”

“You know,” said DuPree quietly, “if that happened to me, I'd kill myself.”

“Well, you'll be saved that trouble,” I replied. “But I have been extremely fortunate. I have a loving family and good friends who have been a tremendous amount of help to me over the years. I would have found my situation very much more difficult without them.”

“Ardsley,” said Gil, “something has occurred to me. I think I know how I could restore your sight in a way that would be fully acceptable to you.”

“Say on,” I replied.

“You're still wearing those spectacles,” he pointed out.

“Yes. It's part of the illusion. Someone wearing spectacles who appears to be somewhat unfocussed will be put down as having poor eyesight, but not as altogether blind. Why do you mention it?”

“Well. Mechanical eyes don't have to sit in your eye sockets. I could build a pair of spectacles with very thick side struts which you would wear permanently. The eyes, which needn't look at all eye-like, would be in the front of those side struts. If you could adapt to having your eyes a few centimetres further apart – and, clearly, you can adapt to all sorts of things – then you could have a device that did your seeing for you, without sacrificing your original eyes.”

“Gil,” I said, “that's brilliant. Thank you. I... I don't know what to say.”

“You've already said as much as you need. Sweet lightning, it'll be a pleasure. Especially since if I can get it done for you before the trial, I shall save you from getting recalled, and I've got plenty of totally selfish reasons not to want that to happen just yet.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

I beamed. “Can you get me flown back down to the Embassy? The first thing I need to do is tell Lucilla. And then, of course, I shall have to arrange extradition for our prisoner here...”

“No,” said DuPree. “Don't bother doing that. I know I'm not going to get out of this one. Bring me a knife and I'll sort it out myself. Quicker and less humiliating.”

“I don't have the authority to let you do that,” I said. “I'm sorry, DuPree. You're going to England.”

“So justice works more than one way,” she said.

“No, DuPree,” I replied. “It always works the same way for everyone. That's why it's justice.”

“Yes,” said Gil. “I'll fly you back down and have the pilot wait, because as soon as you've got everything sorted out down there I want you back up here so I can measure you up and do scans on you and everything. It is just your retinas that have gone, isn't it? Nothing in the visual processing areas of your brain?”

“Yes, just my retinas. Classic diabetic retinopathy.”

“Good! As long as your brain is in full working order – and I'd be astonished if it wasn't – then I can fix you.” He was fizzing with excitement now. “Hey! Would you like any enhancements? Infra-red, ultra-violet, that kind of thing? I can do that.”

“Actually, infra-red might be pretty useful,” I admitted. “For detecting intruders at night, that kind of thing.”

“You shall have it, my friend. You shall have it.”

“Yeah, why not just turn him into a super-clank while you're at it?” said DuPree. We both ignored her.

And so now, a couple of weeks after the events just described, I am in the process of getting used to my new spectacles. Gil warned me that they might give me headaches at first, because with the eyes being further apart than I am used to, the perspective is a little strange; and they did, but I am over that now. I am not yet flying on my own, but that will come very soon, I think. But I am now seeing for the first time what a handsome little boy my younger son Charles is; I have never really seen his face clearly before. He has my eyes and his mother's smile.

I went to see DuPree briefly, just before she was taken away. I will admit it was partly out of curiosity; she did not appear to have changed much as a person, but I wanted to see for myself if her appearance had. It had not, or at least not a great deal. There were streaks of grey in her rich black hair now, and the beginnings of crows'-feet around her eyes, but that was all. She gave me an odd look when I came in, clearly wondering whether or not I could see her now. I immediately explained that I could.

“If you were anyone else, I'd think you'd come to gloat,” she said. “But that's not your way, is it?”

“No,” I replied. “I just wanted to know what you look like these days. Age seems to have treated you quite well, all things considered.”

“Well, that's very polite considering I tried to kill you three times,” she said.

“Yes... you really should have taken the hint about that,” I replied. “Especially since, as far as I can tell, the only reason you have for hating me these days is the fact that you failed to kill me. Which does, I must say, seem a rather poor reason.”

“You know what? I'm not even sure I do hate you, now I've seen you,” she said. “I mean, if I were out of here I'd still go for you. But there wouldn't be any actual malice in it, know what I mean?”

“I'm not absolutely certain I do, but that sounds like some kind of improvement,” I replied.

“Well, enjoy it, because it's the best you'll get from me,” she said.

“I don't understand you,” I confessed. “I never have done. And there are very few people on earth of whom I can say that.”

“Yeah, well, that's mutual,” she replied. “You make no sense at all. And yet you're far from stupid.”

“You're no idiot yourself, if it comes to that. So why have you spent your entire life hacking, burning and killing?”

“So why haven't you?” she demanded. “Especially with all the power you've got. If you'd wanted to, you could have become a despot by now. Pull a string here, a string there... you're so good at that. Why didn't you?”

“Why would I have wanted to?” I asked.

She shrugged eloquently. “Yeah. The archetypal Ardsley Wooster answer. You can't even understand why someone would want that. And it baffles the hell out of me.”

“Tell me, DuPree,” I said. “If you had lost your sight as I did, do you know anyone who would want to do for you what Gil has done for me? Never mind whether or not they could actually do it; very few people in the world could do what Gil has just done. I'm talking about whether or not they would want to do it if they could.”

She thought about it. “I... don't know.”

“Very well,” I replied. “You'll have plenty of time to come up with an answer to that on your way over to England; I don't need you to answer me now. The answer is for your own benefit, not mine. Now, you heard Gil talking about NIMROD; he is my canine clank, and recently he has also been my guide dog. Agatha Heterodyne built him. I have a reading machine down in my office that was built for me by Gil's son Aristide, who, sadly, is no longer with us. I have one or two little gadgets which were built for me by Tarvek Sturmvoraus, with whom, admittedly, I have as ambiguous a friendship as Gil does; but when you get past all the verbal sparring, we do genuinely like each other. I have various tools and utensils made for me by Maxim, who is good at carving wood, and who never knew I was blind but who could hardly avoid knowing my sight was poor. He deliberately made all the handles different so I could quickly tell what I had picked up. Then there are all my staff at the Embassy, who open telegrams and announce their contents before handing them to me so I don't have to put them through the reading machine, and who address envelopes for me and do a dozen other little things without ostentation or fuss, because they know their Ambassador doesn't see so well. I could go on, but you get the drift. If you have difficulty understanding me, then think of those people, because I would not be who I am without them. And I haven't even spoken of my family, who are the most tremendous support any man could have; my wife is the most wonderful woman on earth, and, incidentally, could very probably thrash you soundly in a fight.”

“So why did she marry you, then?” asked DuPree.

“Ah, well, you see, there is this concept called love,” I replied. “I'm not sure if you've actually heard of it, and I do appreciate that it's quite a difficult one for you to understand; but, nonetheless, I assure you it not only exists, but is astonishingly powerful. Indeed, in one form or another, it's been behind everything of any importance I've ever done. Love of my country, love of my friends, love of peace and order and sound governance; love, too, if you like, for all the little people who get dragged willy-nilly into wars and other disturbances, and so often lose everything they have in the process. And I do not love by halves, DuPree. I never have.”

“You know,” she said, “I'm starting to think you're a little crazy.”

“Only now? I've known that for years,” I replied. “Though I am not crazy in the way you appear to think. You have not seen my individual streak of madness, and frankly I doubt you will. I have no occasion to show it these days, except to prevent others from going in the same direction.”

She grinned. “So you think I'm sane?”

“Oh, no,” I said. “Not in the least. But all madnesses are different, and yours has no echo in mine that allows me to communicate with it.”

“You talk as though madness were something normal,” she said.

“It is,” I replied. “I should say most people have a little of it in them. If that were more clearly understood, we should fear it less.”

“You are quite the philosopher these days. Perhaps I shall have a sudden, final flash of understanding at the very moment your judge puts on his black cap and pronounces my sentence. They say that knowing one is about to die makes things very clear.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “But I should wish you to understand sooner, if that is possible. You have missed so much, DuPree, and I would not be human if I did not consider that a pity.”

She laughed. “Don't go feeling sorry for me, Wooster. I've missed nothing, and I regret nothing. I shall die as I have lived – defiantly.”

“Well,” I said, “if that's what you've got, may it help you. I'm going to leave you now. I have one of Gil's pilots waiting for me; I'm going to do some more flying practice.”

“Yeah. I'll see you at the trial, then.” She paused. “Hey. If by any freak chance they do acquit me, I'm going to make you a promise. So listen, because I don't make those often, and they're good.”

“I'm listening,” I assured her.

“Three times is enough. I won't touch you or yours again, Wooster. Or my lord, or whatever you want me to call you.”

I nodded. “Thank you.” I had no idea what had prompted her to make that promise; but I was glad something had, and far more for her sake than for my own.

“Yeah. You're not worth it. I've got more important people to kill.”

Well, I reflected with a smile as I left, she had to say that, didn't she?

**Author's Note:**

> So this was going to be the Very Last Story, at least chronologically (though I might well have gone back in the timeline and written others); I was originally going to have his lordship recalled for honourable retirement in England once his condition came out at DuPree's trial. But then Gil more or less walked up and grabbed me by the arm, and said something like this:
> 
> "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU STUPID AUTHOR? DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT A FINE SPARK I AM OR DO YOU CHOOSE TO FORGET? DO YOU THINK I, OF ALL PEOPLE, CAN'T SEE A WAY ROUND THIS ONE, OR DO YOU JUST PUT ME INTO STORIES TO LOSE MY TEMPER WITH PEOPLE?"
> 
> Uh. Sorry, Gil. (I should be careful writing Gil; it's not the first time he's sounded off at me.) So if you get any more stories about Lord Heversham the British Ambassador, you'd better thank Gil. ;-)


End file.
